


Audience

by JPeterson



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/F, Incest, POV Original Character, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, Sibling Incest, Sister/Sister Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 08:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3283676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JPeterson/pseuds/JPeterson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We both got some sort of rush of knowledge of... other lives, I think. Several of them, where we were also together as lovers, in spite of being related by blood. One was so far back that we were both wearing furs for clothes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Audience

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for drabble/short prompts on Tumblr upon hitting 50 followers – the below story is based on this one:
> 
> "On being told that they are sisters, they remark that isn't the first time they were siblings. They have done the full spectrum of being related except parent and child bc that really is wrong. The funniest was when they were identical twins. Although fights were few and far between, they used the fact that they were identical against each other."
> 
> Warnings:  
> Icest, though more in references than actions.

"Right this way, Miss."

"Of course. Thank you." You nod once at the portly, balding man and try not to be too obvious about giving yourself a once-over (thrice-over, maybe) as you follow him down winding hallways that echo much too loudly compared to the silence of the snow-covered outside world. You also try not to be too obvious about gawking, but it's extremely rare for any outside visitors to be allowed past the more public parts of the castle (the ballroom, the throne room and the front courtyard), and yet here you are – on your way to the Queen Elsa's very own chambers!

Besides, setting the scene is important, and you definitely want to mention the beautiful Christmas decorations you see everywhere – the garlands, the carefully crafted porcelain, the silver and gold and red and green. It adds to the mood of the article, and you know enough to realize that this is your chance to make your mark – especially since the editor mainly sent you because you're the only woman on staff.

The man finally stops in front of a set of white, painstakingly carved double doors and knocks, and after a brief moment and a low  _Go ahead, Kai_ , he opens it and gestures you ahead and inside with a light bow.

You're pretty sure you give him another nod and a smile, but you're honestly too filled with nerves to be entirely certain. There's nothing quite like being kicked headfirst into the largely uncharted waters of journalism by being asked to interview the royal family, and if you  _had_  eaten anything, it probably would have come back up at least an hour ago.

So you can't really speak, and instead observe. The room you enter is large and lavish for obvious reasons – decorated in greens and blues and warm, dark wood, and obviously intended as a sitting area, though you think you see the end of a large, four-poster bed through another doorway off to one side. In the middle of the room is a low table between a few comfortable chairs and a loveseat, and in the loveseat...

In the loveseat is Her Majesty, Elsa I of Arendelle, The Snow Queen, sitting perfectly poised with her hands folded in her lap, and unnervingly bright, crystal-blue eyes peering directly and unreadably at you. You find yourself unable to hold that gaze for too long, and quickly flit your own to the side to meet instead the gently twinkling, blue-green eyes of Princess Anna of Arendelle, The Eternal Winter's Bane, who is smiling warmly and sitting a good deal more relaxed – leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands loosely clasped.

Unsurprisingly, you note somewhere, they are sitting hip to hip.

"Your Majesty," you greet, and bend your neck as you give curtseying your best try. "Your Highness. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding." You pause and straighten, and then fiddle a little with the leather folder you're carrying. "It  _is_  still 'your highness', Princess?"

"For a little while longer, yeah," the princess agrees with a nod and a half-grin. "And please, call me Anna. Otherwise the air is gonna end up so thick with highnesses and princesses that we won't be able to see each other."

At that, all you can do is blink, because that isn't exactly protocol. Then again, the same could certainly be said for sisters marrying.

"I'll try," you end up replying, and resist the urge to sigh in relief when the pri-  _Anna_  nods happily.

"Awesome!" she decrees, and then waves a hand towards the chairs. "Sit, sit, sit! Elsa won't let me touch the chocolates until we're all seated," she explains, and you feel a bit flummoxed as you hurry to oblige, but get distracted soon enough when the turquoise eyes study you.

"You're a lot younger than I expected," Anna muses. "Not to mention a lot more female."

"Anna..." The queen's posture shifts as those unnaturally blue eyes are hidden behind one hand, and she sighs.

"Well, she is!" Anna insists, and then sticks out her tongue. "You told me to expect a middle-aged or elderly  _man_  – not a woman our age!"

"That's because that's what  _I_  expected," the queen explains dryly, with the touch of a single, long finger to the tip of the princess's freckled nose. She's also smiling now, and you decide that this expression makes her much less intimidating to look at. "Remember what I told you about what to comment on with company?" she continues, and her tone is warmly teasing.

"Remember what  _I_  'told'  _you_  in response?" is the quick-fire reply, alongside the quirk of a russet eyebrow.

"... quite." The queen clears her throat, and you decide to focus on removing your small stack of paper and your single pen when you realize that she's blushing.

You're not touching that one with a ten-foot pole, and only look up again when you hear the princess chuckle softly over the sound of liquid being poured.

"Help yourself," Anna says, and gestures to the array of tea and cakes and chocolates set out on the table. "Miss...?"

"Andersen, Your Highness," you respond, and then promptly berate yourself for having forgotten to even  _give_  your name. "Marli Andersen and, if I may." A breath here, because everyone knows this is a potentially sore subject. "My half-brother mentioned in his last letter how angered he himself was at the actions of Prince Hans. So since I have the chance, I'm offering you an apology on the behalf of at least one national of the Southern Isles."

The queen is back to looking intimidating at the turn of a wrist, and while her general expression is amiable enough, her eyes are decidedly icy. "And whom might your half-brother be?"

"He's a poet, Majesty," you explain, though under that look you're wondering how you can even  _breathe_  – it thankfully lessens when the princess sets a hand on her sister's knee and whispers something in her ear. "Not a well-known one, though. His name is Hans Christian Andersen."

Again, the queen's air changes in the blink of an eye, and now she's actually smiling a little behind the rim of her teacup. "Yet," she says. "He's not well-known  _yet_. Anna loves his work."

"I do?" the princess wonders.

"You do," is the fond reply. "Or I should certainly think so, given how long you've spent quoting it and giggling at the thought of a naked emperor."

"A naked emp-  _The Emperor's New Clothes?_ " The turquoise eyes widen, and then settle firmly on you. "That's your brother's work?" When you nod, she grins. "Wow. Okay, well, tell him next time you write that he has readers here and to keep at it."

"I will," you promise with a smile of your own. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it." And the mood seems to be easy enough now, so you click your pen to life and watch both young women across from you straighten a little at the sound – even the queen, who's already sitting as perfectly straight as a human can. "If I may?" you ask, and gesture to the papers you've set atop the stiff, leather folder in your lap, and wait for both the blonde and the copper head to nod. "Thank you. And before anything else, I might ask questions that neither of you wish to answer. If that's the case, please just say so, and we'll move on."

There are no objections – the queen merely sips her tea while the princess regards you benignly with one piece of confectionery in her mouth and another in her hand, and so you take a breath and decide to start with the questions that you figure to be shot down the fastest.

"The people of Arendelle have received the news of your engagement with great delight," you lead, and watch smiles form on both of their faces. "Does this surprise you, given that you are, after all, sisters?"

"Yes."

"Gosh, no!"

The responses come from the queen and the princess respectively, and at exactly the same time. You're stunned they even answered, and so just write as fast as you can as the two of them turn to each other.

"Elsa," the princess scolds, and reaches out to poke the blonde in the side. "You need to have more faith in your people."

" _Our_  people," is the soft correction, with the queen's hand settling on a freckled arm. "And I have every faith in them, but there  _is_  a limit to how many surprises any member of humanity can take within a certain period of time."

"Clearly we haven't hit it yet," the redhead volleys, with an upwards tug at the corner of her mouth. "Or – from my point of view – we've probably always been a little odd in the eyes of the world, so what's one more thing?"

"I suppose our love doesn't seem particularly extraordinary when compared to this," is the wry response, with a tiny, swirling vortex of snow forming in an upturned palm before your very eyes.

"Nope." Anna blows at the vortex, and grins when the small cloud of snow lands on the queen's face and causes a soft laugh. She then captures her sister's hand, and their fingers twine with the ease of long practice. "Most people didn't bat an eye, from what Kristoff says."

"But there  _are_  dissenters?" you pick up, just to keep the proverbial ball rolling. "To your relationship, given the blood-ties you already share?"

"Neither of us have actually heard anything from them yet, but yes, most likely." The queen is the only one to answer this time, and you watch her with a great deal more ease since she's settled back a little, and currently has her eyes closed while the princess's fingers stroke slowly over the palm of her hand. "There always has been, but at least this time around, we're in high enough positions of both privilege and power that as long as the majority's on our side, we're largely untouchable."

"This... time around?" you query hesitantly, because you really don't understand what she means, but at least the subtle tightening around both sets of pale eyes lets you know that maybe the queen ended up saying more than she actually meant to. "Should I ignore that?" you wonder a trifle uncomfortably, and watch in fascination as the princess and queen look at each other for long moments, and seem to communicate by only the faintest of twitches in their facial muscles.

Then, finally, Anna sighs. "We'll explain what Elsa meant," she begins, and as she speaks, her eyes are suddenly every bit as intense as the queen's – her gaze hard as steel and her posture and voice sharpening into taut command. "But you  _must_  give your word that this doesn't make it beyond this room. I will not have another cry of 'sorcery' or other such nonsense, and I will hunt you down  _myself_  if harm of any kind comes to my sister over this."

"You have my word, Your Highness," you promise as you place both pen and papers on the table and then settle back with your hands in your lap, because looking into those suddenly icy eyes, you believe every word she says.

The fiery head nods once, and then the princess is back to the way she was mere seconds ago – relaxed, warm, and friendly, even if the hand she's holding clenches, and she moves both into her lap to cradle the paler one in both of her own. "We both died out there," she says softly, and glances out of the window towards the fjord while stroking the queen's tense fingers. "As it turns out, that's something you can actually learn a lot from."

"And not simply from this life," the queen murmurs, and though her voice is soft, it's enough to make you turn your gaze to her. "Although honestly, a large part of me still says it was a dream, even if it was a rather large coincidence that we had the exact same one."

"Rather," Anna agrees dryly. "Especially considering the whole 'dead' thing." The queen flinches subtly, and she grimaces before bringing the now frost-sprinkled hand to her lips. "Sorry."

Those blue eyes give her a reproving look, but they're somehow gentler – like summer skies, rather than ice – and the crystals forming on the queen's fingers melt away under her sister's tender touch. "What am I going to do with you?" is the warmly exasperated query.

The princess just smirks. "I've already answered that one."

There's a soft chuckle followed by a sigh, and then that unnerving gaze is back on you, though it's much easier to meet now, somehow.

"My sister died as a direct result of my powers," the queen tells you bluntly. "I died of guilt. Heartache. I can't give you a scientific explanation for how we somehow managed to still emerge hale and healthy, but Anna's opinion is that the power of love can do anything, and after everything we've been through, I'm inclined to believe her."

"I'll get you fully over on my side yet," comes the low mutter, and you watch their eyes meet in a warm give and take once more.

"Neither of us were... gone, I guess, for more than maybe a few seconds," Anna then picks up, and watches her own fingers play with the ones in her grasp. "But we both got some sort of rush of knowledge of... other lives, I think. Several of them, where we were also together as lovers, in spite of being related by blood. One was so far back that we were both wearing furs for clothes."

"You looked good in a wolf pelt," the queen muses idly, and then promptly turns scarlet when her sister leans over and whispers something to her again. You can't tell what she says, but based on her lip movement it might have been something about her 'looking better out of it'. "The- um..." She coughs softly, and there's a low sound of protest when she pinches the princess. "There was also one where we were... cousins?"

"The one with the tulips?" the redhead questions, and then nods. "Yeah – first cousins. And when we were wearing togas, I was older than you." A smirk. "And male."

"And the reverse was true when we both had ebony skin," the queen returns, with a sharply arched eyebrow and a private, little smile. "Don't think I forgot that time."

"This is the first time in a while that we've actually been sisters, isn't it?" Anna's voice is a little louder – possibly in an attempt to detract from the flush in her cheeks. "Last time was-"

"When we were identical twins, somewhere in the Far East," her elder sister picks up, with a faint scowl. "Heavens, the amount of trouble you got me into just by learning to act like me."

"Hey." The princess smacks her lightly on the shoulder. "That worked both ways, if I remember correctly – you almost got me married the one time I really did tick you off! Worst I ever did was get you a job."

"In a  _brothel_ , Anna."

"Still a job!" the redhead insists stubbornly, and turns up her nose while the queen rolls her eyes. "Besides, you never went."

"How could I?" The queen traces gentle fingers over a freckled cheek, and you avert your eyes because the moment has suddenly become too private to intrude on. "I never wanted anyone but you. I was going crazy thinking that  _you_  might have-"

Your forcibly tune out the conversation from that point on, again because it seems that they've forgotten that you're even there, and what they're currently discussing is no concern of yours, fantastical as it sounds. On the other hand, the two women talking are a wielder of ice magic and a near-girl who ended an eternal winter, respectively, so maybe it isn't all  _that_  far-fetched to think that there are such things as 'other lives'. Or that they've met before – been lovers - in several of them.

As they sit there so closely and talk and smile with each other, there are moments between them that you quietly start sketching out on a blank piece of paper, so you maybe can have one of them added to the article. There's one of the queen's finger on Anna's nose with one golden eyebrow quirked in amusement, one of Anna brushing the pale bangs back with a smile that almost becomes a grin, and one of their hands meeting with fingers entwined, resting on both blue and green silk where their legs touch as they just smile into each other's eyes – forehead to forehead. There are many others, of course – plenty of more impersonal ones, too – but this, you know as you smile, is a love story, and that is what you want the end result to show.

More than that, you know that you'll be mentioning the queen of Arendelle, her sister-turned-wife-to-be, and her mystical ice magic the next time you write to your half-brother, even if you know that he'll turn it into another story entirely if he ends up making something of it.

But if this isn't the stuff of fairytales, what is?


End file.
